That was when I finally understood.
I was dead.
A gust of wind blew through, sweeping me away. Before I knew it, I had drifted to Nathan’s side.
He sat at Trinity’s hospital bed, carefully spooning porridge to her lips. Mom stood beside them, watching with warmth and
approval in her eyes. The cozy, picturesque scene stung me deeper than my own death.
Nathan’s assistant, Jake Wells, walked in and leaned toward him. “Mr. Heath, we’ve delivered the food to Ms. Tegan.”
Nathan’s hand paused briefly before he lazily asked, “What is she doing?”
Jake replied, “I didn’t see her. She’s probably resting in her room.”
Nathan nodded. “Lock the door. Make sure she doesn’t get out.”
Trinity’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, and she hesitantly murmured, “Nate, maybe you should let Tegan out.”
Nathan set the bowl down and replied, almost absentmindedly, “We’ll talk about it after your surgery.”
Mom chimed in, her tone gentle but firm, “That’s right, Trinny. You always think about Tegan, but has she ever thought about you? Focus on your surgery. Let her stay in the house and reflect on herself. You don’t need to worry about it.”
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